the way a bomb loves a crowd
by happyisahabit
Summary: #5. She has fists full of damp blonde hair that smells like her own shampoo and the skin on her back is warm under his palms. / #6. Katsuki decides his foot wasn't being taken by frostbite tonight. / Collection of Kacchako drabbles and oneshots. (Always marked complete, but updates follow with additional prompts from reviews or tumblr.)
1. the way a bomb loves a crowd

This is where I'll be compiling what I write for prompts on tumblr for Kacchako. They'll be mostly unrelated to each other. Please feel free to leave a review with a prompt! If it strikes my fancy, I'll see what I can do with it. All of these are unbeta'd and written in one go so if you see a mistake, be kind. :)

First one was for lucyrne, a softer world prompt 26:

 **I love you the way a knife loves a heart / the way a bomb loves a crowd / the way your mother warned you about, essentially. (the way a human loves another human)**

There was something about Bakugou.

The way he took up space, the way his spine was always straight in a fight, never backing down. The blaze in his eyes carried heat higher than his hands could impart. Everything about him screamed for attention and she willingly gave it.

Yes, there was something about Bakugou that Uraraka was drawn to.

When those red daggers landed on her, the jolt goes right to the heart, palpitations speeding along faster and faster until she thought she might pass out.

He tries not to think about Uraraka.

The way her eyes narrow in concentration or fury, the way she wiped blood off her mouth, relentless. The tension in her arms as she wields pillars ten times larger than she was as weapons. Everything about her looked fragile and he burned knowing it was not.

Oh, there were things Bakugou shouldn't think about Uraraka.

Pastel pink finger pads brushing along his jaw, the internal combustion rolling in his chest, making his palms sweat and crackle until even he can feel the scorch.


	2. is that my shirt?

for shinybow/versalusia on tumblr, a dialogue prompt (some liberties taken):

 **"Is that my shirt?" / "I'm in love... shit."**

"Is that my shirt?"

His head is ringing and his vision blurred around the edges, but the first thing that catches his attention is Uraraka Ochako, sitting with her back to him. In his shirt.

"Good evening, Bakugou," she says, glancing over at him once while he sits up slowly. She returns to whatever she's doing with her hands in the next moment. "How's your head?"

Things are coming back to him slowly. The woods are quiet around them, the last light of the day leaving the sky. His head hurts and his back is sore like he was pummeled with a bunch of rocks. He blinks a few times and rolls his neck gingerly.

"…fuckin' hurts." She hums and the ring in his ears dies down enough for him to distinguish the clicking noise coming from her hands. "What the hell are you doing? Why are you wearing my fucking shirt? What-" He's cut off by her clipped and frosty tones.

"Trying to start a fire, you ass. Lay back down before you hurt yourself again."

"Gimme that." He shifts and rips the flat stones out of her hands, back twinging with the sudden movement. He holds his hand above the small pile of kindling Uraraka had put together and ignites his quirk. If the blast is a little too big for starting a camp fire, then he pretends not to notice. The ends of Uraraka's hair catch some embers, but she just glares at him while putting it out between her palms.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, tossing the stones over his shoulder into the underbrush. The sun is wholly down now and the flickering of the fire brings his attention to a tiny pile of light green cloth sitting on the ground.

Or, it would be light green, if it wasn't murky brownish red.

Uraraka had been wearing a light green tank when they'd left that morning for today's lesson: a wilderness survival course. He glances over to where he'd been lying and there's another stretch of fabric, ripped in some places, dark colors laid out in concentrated patches. Uraraka's empty canteen is next to it. Bakugou reaches to touch his back, muscles arguing with the motion. His hand comes back with dried blood.

He works his jaw as he looks over at her, trying to think what he should say. The back of his shirt is baggy on her, but there are more than a few tears in it. She's still glaring at him, eyes glowering in the flames' light. He opens his mouth and is cut off again as he puts all the pieces together.

"Get it now?" _–running into Uraraka on his way to the next checkpoint-_ "You totally screwed up-" _–trying to slow her up by using his quirk-_ "when you caused that rock slide-" – _the loose scree rumbling and larger rocks breaking, tumbling-_ "-and _then_ you dove-" _–the panic caused his body to move-_ "-right on top of me, immobilizing my _hands_!" _–tucking her head under his chin, then pain and blackness-_ "You absolute _idiot!_ "

Bakugou's eyes are wide, taking the influx of memories and the image of Uraraka towering over him. When did he edge back onto his palms, back away? The fire is behind her now, darkening her face but making her hair burn amber-gold as it puffs out in irritation.

"I had to drag your dead weight around and patch you up without a first aid kit," she growls.

She makes a sudden motion forward and he's on his elbows, back protesting. There's a rock floating in front of his face, but he can't focus with Uraraka's hands pressed into the dirt next to his hips as she looms over him.

"…when all I would have had to do was make us _float_ over the debris."

He gulps, because he's never seen Uraraka this pissed. "So now we have no more clean water-" The sport festival was apparently just the tip of the iceberg when considering how _un_ fragile this girl was. "and my shirt was ruined by your explosion and the rockslide-" He wets his mouth again before trying to talk; the fury on her normally open features and the tension in her shoulders covered by his shirt seem to have made his saliva flee. "-so I used it to pull all the dirt out of your back."

"Shit, Uraraka, I-"

"So yes, I am wearing your damn shirt."

"I-fuck, I didn't think-" the rock falls, bouncing off his sternum.

"No, Bakugou Katsuki, you didn't."

It's suddenly a lot cooler and it's because Uraraka has backed up to her own space. His head is reeling again, warm. He holds a hand to his forehead without thinking, the skin warm to the touch there and on his cheeks. His slow return to vertical has her looking at him again, with a more contemplative look.

Thankfully, she doesn't appear to be contemplating murder.

Her hand is pulling his away by the wrist. The back of her other hand touches his face, cool to his heating cheeks. Her mouth pulls into a cross between a frown and pout, gears churning in her head. "I cleaned out all your cuts best I could, did you catch a fever? Are they infected?" She's turning his torso as much as it would allow, inspecting her own handiwork. Apparently satisfied, she touches her hand to his face again. "You're all flushed and sweaty…"

She rubs her fingers together, testing whether the sweat felt like the nitroglycerin that comes off his palms. She wipes her hand on his shirt and leans up. Pushing their bangs back with each hand, her forehead presses against his and she murmurs, "Don't blow me up now…"

Bakugou combusts internally and stays completely still. Nothing about this situation is computing and his mind stutters to a halt. Brown eyes are closed and he can count her eyelashes if he wanted to. A girly hand is in his hair and as his eyes drift closed and he starts to sway forward, the cool skin against his head leaves and Uraraka's hand is guiding him back towards her into the light of the fire. Her brown eyes are softer than before.

That hand is very soft, and gentle, until it pulls against his eyelids in turn.

"Well, I don't know about infection, but you don't seem to have a concussion."

When her hand leaves his face, he almost wishes he did. … _shit_.


	3. i dare you

**47\. "Go on, I dare you" - Requested by anonymous on tumblr**

(They're a bit older in this one, well out of school and in an established relationship. I had a few ideas pop into my head with this prompt, so don't be surprised if you see it again sometime...)

* * *

"Go on... I dare you," Bakugou spits, getting the blood out of his mouth. He gleefully watches as the Villain's lackeys surround Uraraka. "For once, it ain't me you gotta worry about." The blood wells from the loose tooth he has and he spits again, wiping his mouth. His grin is tinged pink and red. "It's her."

The Villain spares a glance at the short girl in the pink and white leotard, with a round face and soft curves that are only accentuated by her hero costume. Just from observation, his body shifts to form her curves and match her height for a split second, gauging her strength by how he feels. He's never heard of Uravity before, but he's seen the Explosion quirk user on the news before. That guy is the real threat, not this angelic girl. His gang has her completely surrounded and she's looking around trying to find a way to run. The blonde hero will have to save her or make space for her to escape, clearly, as she seems at a loss.

The lackeys expose their quirks, oozing skin acid and spikes and partial animal forms, but the girl to her credit, doesn't flinch. They're waiting for her to move or show a sign of weakness. When she slides her foot back and the massive heel catches on some rubble, they group jumps. Bakugou just grins wider.

Uraraka uses the springs in her shoes to jump and float above the pile of low level thugs as easy as breathing. Some of the unlucky ones come into contact with an ally that uses acid and start screaming in pain. The spikey ones start shooting at her, the spindles missing by inches as she uses momentum and a rhythm of tapping fingers to keep moving through the air.

When she does finally land, a shark-headed guy rams straight for her, but Uraraka grabs a chunk of steel-reinforced concrete leftover from Bakugou's first attack. Her Comet Shot sends the half-fish flying into two of his buddies, his teeth shattered three rows deep. Those with acid burns or a great white on top of them wisely decide not to stand back up when Uraraka throws the hulking mass at the horde- really why do they always stand together?- and pressed her hands together at the last second.

Now only the Villain stands between Bakugou and Uraraka.

Bakugou is caught somewhere between laughing and yelling, itching to join in on the beating, but also loving the chaos around him at the hands of such a soft-looking girl. It's been years since the sports festival that first year of high school and he still doesn't understand how anyone could think of Uraraka as less than lethal.

The Villain is speechless, hand stretched out like he was trying to stop her from beating the tar out of his gang, but never spoke up. It drops when Uraraka pulls back her tinted visor and he comes face to face with an angry pair of brown eyes. He imagines that she's quite pretty when not making such a terrifying face, but he just can't get past the crinkled brow and slit eyes.

Bakugou loves it.

He's been making his way up behind the Villain quietly as the asshole stares in horror at the sprite of a girl before him. He flinches when Bakugou whispers harshly in his ear: "I fuckin' told you so."

Uraraka approaches them slowly, speaking calmly despite the dark expression. "Since we don't have a way to suppress you or your quirk peacefully, we'll have to make sure you can't use it until the police can arrive." The Villain gulps, skin shifting and bones rattling, unsure of what form to take. "Hon', if you would?"

Bakugou wraps the Villain in a choke hold, dangerous hands right behind his head. Uraraka reaches them and smiles, features clearing into a heart-warming smile. She taps his chest and waves as he begins to float.

"Have a nice flight!"

Higher and higher they get, the blonde explosion still gripping him. An eager voice sounds in his ear followed by a big boom: "Ready?"

Bakugou and the Villain are hurtling to the ground when he suddenly lets the Villain go. Another flare and he sets himself neatly on the ground as the asshole bad guy ends with his face in the dirt.

Uraraka steps next to him and he pulls her into his side by the waist.

"You weren't gonna help me?"

"You know I love watching you work," he grins, gesturing vaguely to the rubble. "I break it, you use it."

She smacks his chest, grinning, and tugs at his utility belt. "Zipties, hon'."

He sighs, trying to cool his pulse down, and retrieves the orange plastic. He hands half to her as he scans the area, already thinking about when they get off duty and how to regale her with how very hot he finds her contradiction of appearance and action to be. There are quite a few guys knocked out, scattered around, easy to bind up. The baddies who are still conscious are holding their hands out together, very ready to go to jail.


	4. angelface

**Prompt: what Bakugou thinks of ochako's warface** \- submitted by Lucyrne/ungenue on tumblr

(again, I think I have something else I want to do with this one, but it's a good start. Imagine Kacchan wanting to see and explore all of Ochako's expressions!)

* * *

He didn't have a good memory for faces. Part of the reason he called people by nicknames was because he had trouble putting the name tag with the nose/eyes/mouth his brain processed. The other part was because he didn't fucking care.

So when Angelface started appearing on the periphery of his world, dodging in and out, shadowing Deku and his stupid face, he didn't bother trying to learn her name. Soft, round features and rosy cheeks under big eyes looked pretty innocent, he supposed, so he decided her name would be Angelface. There. Easy to remember and- bonus!- it seemed to tick her off.

When he draws up against her in the sports festival, he's irritated. Smooth unblemished skin and wide eyes don't belong on the battlefield. But when she shouts at him and launches her attack, he sees a transformation.

Gone are the full cheeks and pretty pink flushes; now she is pulling cheeks back to show gritted teeth and an angry red of exertion colors her face. The smooth brow is gone, too, left for dead under the deep furrows of concentration. Dirt and scrapes mar her face in a way that his brain can't reconcile between now and every time previous.

It's like she's a different person.

He's nearly caught in her stratagem, crumbling the falling rocks with an explosion not a second too late. He's been so caught up in the change from Angelface to _her_ that he can't stand it. Her eyes are a darkening brown, tight with focus and burning into his memory. He wants to see more, never forget. His blood is flooding with adrenaline and endorphins, pulsing through every inch of his body. His hands itch to make her show new expressions that aren't angelic at all. He knows he can now because he's seen it.

He's seen _Uraraka Ochako_ and there's no way she could ever go back to just Angelface.


	5. i didn't see anything!

**17\. "Ignore me, I didn't see anything"** \- requested by anon on tumblr

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Ochako is twenty-five when she moves in with some friends from her high school days. The high rent forced plenty of young people to form communities and shared living spaces in the ever rising apartment buildings. And if she wants to keep sending half her paycheck into a savings account for her parents' big vacation and retirement fund, she needs a few roommates to lower her monthly expenses.

Being a hero pays well-enough, but every little bit helps.

It's her off-duty day, so she walks through the front door and throws her keys into the dish by the door and drops her bag on the floor outside her room. There's no one in the living room, so Tsuyu and Mina must be out. A man's coat is haphazardly thrown over one of the chairs in the living room and Ochako wonders to herself when Eijirou will just move in with Tsuyu.

They were super cute together and it would decrease the rent for everyone. His apartment with Denki and Katsuki had to be getting up there in cost, living on a top floor. Denki is seeing someone right now, too, come to think of it…

Ochako is still a bit bleary from her supplemental job, a moving company that permits use of her quirk, so she grabs a towel and, in the absence of her roommates, starts peeling sweaty clothes as she makes her way to the bathroom. She's plucking the nausea wristbands she wears off (a precaution more than a need at this point in her career) when she opens the bathroom door to a wall of steam. Ochako, with a trail of gross damp clothing behind her, clad only in one nausea wristband, a sports bra, her striped undies and socks is shocked.

When the shower curtain rattles back and the steam clears just enough to reveal a blonde head and lean muscle, Ochako drops the towel in surprise and covers her eyes.

"I'm so sorry! Ah I didn't- I mean I did see, but I really didn't mean to!" she's yelling into her hands and blushing all over. She can actually feel the glare on her skin. She can hear a growl and some rustling under her continual babbling, but she is leg-locked and can't move for the life of her. The air gets warmer and she jumps a little when his voice speaks so close.

"I'm fucking decent now. Open your damn eyes, you pervert." She peeks through fingers and finds Katsuki Bakugou pouting, red and looking everywhere but at her. "Fuckin' put this on already!"

Oh yeah.

She wasn't wearing a shirt. Or pants.

Ochako quickly grabs the towel (the one she dropped) from his outstretched hands. Katsuki has donned another around his waist, but his chest is still wet, hair dripping.

"Fuckin' finally..." he steps toward her, or more accurately, to the door. "Can I go now or are you going to freakin' stare at me all day?"

Ochako yelps and flattens herself against the door jam, letting him pass. One quick glance at his red toweled butt (hers were red! where did he get that!) and she races inside to shower.

When she emerges, she wraps the towel tighter and clutches the remainder of her clothes tightly to her chest. The long soak let her process what just happened a little bit, but questions remained. Why was he even here?

She couldn't see him from the hall, meaning he wasn't in the main room. Her room, it was. She yells before walking in, "Your eyes better be closed!" She's nervous but walks in anyway, it _is_ her room after all. Thankfully, all she can see is the pale blonde tuft of hair sticking out from beneath the pillow his smothering to his face. He's lying on her bed and turns on his side to face the wall when she starts rummaging through drawers. Ochako quickly pulls out some random underclothes, a tee and leggings.

When she's done, she takes a moment to watch him, tense and curled on his side. He was embarrassed. With a small smirk, she flicks the lock on her door loudly. He flinches and looks tentatively over his shoulder.

"Ah I told you not to look!" She admonishes playfully, bounding across the small room to land next to him on her knees. Her hands immediately go to his sides as he angrily yelps, swatting her away until realizing he has a weapon. The pillow smacks her in the face.

Everything pauses until he whispers, "..Uraraka?" She lets her face remain blank, gripping the pillow he hasn't let go of yet. He lets it go of it and she almost feels bad for how unsure he looks. Well, imagine how she felt when he shows up two hours early for their date. She drops it to the floor and leans forward until her hands are pressed into the mattress near his shoulders, head.

"…Ochako," she says, cheeks pinking. "I told you to call me Ochako."

The unsure look gives way to one that's one part fear, one part excitement and two some other quantity that she doesn't want to guess wrong. He gulps and chews on his lip, one hand running up her arm and down to her side lightly. She has goosebumps everywhere his hand goes, but he doesn't speak, his face flushing steadily.

So she gathers her courage and leans down on her elbows, caging him in. She can feel his heartbeat fluttering, accelerating next to hers and his hands flatten against her lower back. Their noses bump when she says it.

"Katsuki."

Her name is whispered and then he's kissing her. That steady heat that she's only just getting to know, the temperature of their relationship is rising, or maybe she's making them float again without realizing it. She has fists full of damp blonde hair that smells like her own shampoo and the skin on her back is warm under his palms. Her name is broken between kisses and so is his until-

"Ocha- Oh my! Ignore me, I didn't see anything!" Tsuyu's voice snaps them out of their bubble and the pair thump back down onto the mattress as Ochako's skill releases from shock. Tsuyu backs from the door, clutching a jacket- Katsuki's jacket that had been in the living room. Eijirou is asking her something, but Tsuyu's stuttering, "I'll just, uh, leave this here and oh, Eiji, I just remembered I wanted to go to the… the movies! Yeah!"

The jacket is deposited on the desk just inside her room before Ochako's door is snapped shut. Ochako is scrambling to get a hold of herself and rush to explain- they'd only been dating a few weeks! They hadn't had time to figure it all out themselves, much less tell everyone else!

A callused hand snags her wrist. "Ochako."

She turns back, still a little panicked-did her lock not work?-, but he takes both of her wrists and moves until she is standing close to the bed, between his legs. His head is turned down and she can't see his expression. She can guess at what he's thinking.

"I suppose we don't have to tell them now, right? Ah, that could have gone better…" she rambles, trailing off when the crown of his head presses into her stomach. She sighs and pulls her hands out of his grip to thread them in his hair. Ochako can almost feel the heat on his face. His arms loop around her legs. "…say it again?"

"…mm …'chako…" he mutters. She smiles and makes him tilt his head up. Oh yes, his face is firetruck red, lips in an impressive pout, yet eyes bravely looking right at her, waiting.

She smiles around the three syllables of his name, as his hands tighten on her legs. "Katsuki."

"Shit." He falls back on the bed, dragging a laughing Ochako with him.


	6. cold feet

whalehouse1 requested **"fighting over a blanket during movie night"** on tumblr

If you have requests, leave one in a review or an ask on tumblr! :D

(Also, I drag Gamora a little in this, but believe me it is out of love. We need more space turtle who protects kids in our lives!)

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Their class had made a tradition out of watching movies the night after an exam or field exercise, which for them, was about once every week. After the first few, movie nights turned into movie marathons and everyone had 'their seat' which goodness help someone who tried to sit somewhere else.

So Katsuki wonders how his seat ended up squished between the couch end and Uraraka.

He thinks it is probably because he has a tendency to get up and leave when the movie is boring, doesn't have enough action or is far too predictable. It might be because he doesn't like sharing his popcorn and is mildly disgusted by some of his classmates gorging on candy towards the center of the room. It could be that Uraraka gets invested in the movies she's never seen, but most of their classmates can't shut up or stop quoting movies, so she sat next to him, quietly munching on salty popcorn and abandoning his seat. He's pretty sure that when he leaves, she scoots over and takes up all of the space he filled in combination with hers.

Either way, he can't say he hates it. Uraraka doesn't bother him or ask for his popcorn.

Tonight's movie is one from the Gamora series and everyone is bundled up in sweatshirts and flannels due to the blizzard outside. The space turtle movie has old and clunky special effects which leads to laughter and a few people have nearly passed out from laughing at the twenty minute flashback-fight scene between Gamora and a pterodactyl.

Katsuki, who hadn't realized the heat in the common room wasn't controllable, had come from his perfectly warm room in a tank, lightweight hoodie and sweats. Uraraka was shivering beside him, despite being under her own blanket. He could almost feel her vibrating with coldness as he clenched his toes into the ottoman in front of them. His feet were fucking freezing and hearing Uraraka's teeth chatter wasn't helping.

His left heel was resting on the end of her blanket and he could tell it was fleece. As the fake monsters continued brawling on screen, everyone enthralled and laughing, Katsuki decided his foot wasn't being taken by frostbite tonight.

His left foot flipped the blanket end up and collided right with Uraraka's equally bare foot. The half squeal, half laugh she let out coincided with a particularly funny part where it was clearly two guys dressed in bad costumes wrestling each other. His foot felt warmth for a split second before it was kicked out, literally.

The fight that ensued was done silently: one foot in, a swift kick by warmer flesh, cool air licking his toes after a brief respite of warmth. Her shoulder jams into him and when he looks at her she's glaring, cheeks pink even with only the tv light flickering across it. He just glares back, then breaks into a grin. Her eyes narrow then widen as he moves both feet under the blanket swiftly, trapping hers under his.

The cold of the bottom of his soles sinks into her ankles and feet and she starts thrashing a little, teeth gritted. He grabs her on instinct before her twisting bumps into the tail-boy on her other side. She freezes the instant he moves his arm down from the couch back onto her shoulder. Her feet rip out from under his, tucking them onto the couch.

He won the battle, feet safely ensconced in warm fleece, but his pulse is racing, still geared for a fight. He has lost track of what's happening in the movie. Uraraka's eyes are still wide and his arm is still clamped around her. Her teeth chatter involuntarily again and his vice grip loosens.

She seems to take this as an invitation or some shit because she relaxes and twists a little. Her now cold feet tuck under his leg and he flinches a little. The back of her hand smacks his chest and then her shoulder is settling into his side, the shivering slowing.

As usual, the movie night turns into a marathon, with additional old sci-fi films thrown out left, right and center, all of varying quality. Katsuki's feet are warm and now so is his side, Uraraka's head lolled back on his shoulder and chest, completely zonked out as she's been for the last movie and a half. His face feels unusually warm, too, as he wipes some nitroglycerin sweat on the back of the couch before returning it to her shoulder.

The blanket is shared now and he makes a mental note to forget his socks next movie night.


	7. cactus

Nasha Rei-kun left a super nice review (thank you!) and requested **"Bakugou sucks at doing first aid. Even on small cuts."**

Thanks for the feedback everyone and please remember that reviews are love. :)

* * *

Katsuki is pissed.

Pissed that it was raining, pissed he was in the infirmary, pissed that Recovery Girl is apparently on strike from anything to do with him. _HE_ wasn't even the one who was injured! The dampness of his hands and fingers make the paper wrapping on bandaids hard to open and he really wants to just blow it up, but then again, blowing things up is how he ended up in here.

It had been about three months since Uraraka had started shadowing him and copying his training regimen. It irritated him after the first week and he confronted her after class. She explained that she wanted to become better at hand to hand to avoid having to use her quirk all the time. He proceeded to tell her that was bullshit. She really ought to learn to just use her quirk to enhance her own fighting style- that was what he did, anyway.

The thing she said next caught his attention in full. _You're the only one that won't go easy on me._

Next thing he knew he was launching himself at Uraraka, fist prepared. She managed to drop to the ground and avoid more than a glancing blow. On instinct her hand came up and he found he had no gravity. Ever since then, they would meet after class in the gym, on the training grounds, occasionally late at night in the common room- no quirks allowed.

He'd figured for a while that she was imitating that fucking nerd, but it was never more prominent than in their festival fight and the first few in their training. Anytime Uraraka has to _think_ , the result was a Deku-eqsue plan that normally involved wearing herself out. It was only when he started their common room fights, an ambush on her waking up from one of the couches, that he got pure Uraraka-style.

Those fights were much more fun, more exhilarating. He knew how Deku thought and fought already and it honestly didn't suit her or her quirk at all. Attacking her when she didn't have a plan often forced more creative thinking and more than once he found himself pinned by a piece of training equipment to the ceiling. Her flexibility and weight limit increased and he got to try out new explosive moves that most of their classmates would balk at facing. But not her. Her eyes narrowed out of their roundness and were sharp as a knife, a true visual learner who could pick up the small details in his stance that could give him away.

It was during their last match that those brown eyes had missed something.

The rain was relentless outside, but their training wasn't held up for any weather, just like heroics couldn't wait for a sunny day. He was at the disadvantage in these conditions, palms diluted with rain water. Perhaps that was where it had gone wrong; the desperation to win, to overcome the weather against a worthy opponent, consumed him. It wasn't much different from his Howitzer Impact, but he put maybe too much force into it, assuming the rain would dampen his explosive tornado.

It didn't happen. The spinning wicked a lot of the water off and the heat of the initial burst burned the rest away. And because he kept pushing, he hit Uraraka with way more force and a wider funnel of flames than either of the expected. He can still clearly see her dodging and covering her face with her hands between flashing strips of his explosions.

So now he's in the infirmary, having carried her as fast as he could, only to find Recovery Girl MIA. Uraraka is sitting on the cot closest to him, alternating between swaying and leaning against the wall. For what he expected, she doesn't look too bad. He figures she cancelled her own gravity to let the heat wave preceding his attack blow her mostly out of his line of fire. Either way, her hair is singed, tiny cuts from debris are littered on every patch of open skin, she has a hell of a lump on her head and there are red burns raw on her hands and forearms.

He's rifling through the medicine cabinet left open for students free use, knocking things off the shelf. He's positive there ought to be some burn cream or ointment or whatever the hell its called in here... there are so many people with fire related quirks! He finds it in the very back and grabs a handful of gauze and bandaids. She hazily told him as he carried her in to wash out the cuts and run her arms under cold water. As someone who'd never been burned, he guessed this made sense and for once, followed direction.

Uraraka blearily holds her hands out to him when he walks over and he takes her left first. There's a significant difference in temperature between her skin and the burns, cool from the water and hot from the inflammation. She hisses and he tries not to look at her face, feeling worse by the second as he notices the red marks not only curled around her wrists and arms, but out onto her fingers, too. He bites the inside of his cheek hard and doesn't warn her, look at her before putting the cream on her arm.

She hisses again and her fingers flinch, curling in reflexively. He keeps his fingers on the burn-free areas as best he can while maintaining his grip. When he gets to her hand, he goes slower, like taking his time will make it heal faster.

Katsuki is a lot of things, but he isn't someone who'd want to take away another's quirk, to burn it away with his own. Unless they were a Villain. Or an asshole. Or-

His thoughts cut off when Uraraka giggles.

"What the fuck are you laughing about?"

Her grin is a little lax and her head tilts to the side more from tiredness than playfulness. "You. My fingers." She snorts as he returns to his work, a little concerned that she knew something about burn care that he didn't. Was he doing it wrong? He's switched hands when she speaks again, "So gentle, Ka-tsu-ki."

He can't help but go red. She doesn't call him by his first name at all, only 'Kacchan' when she's trying to provoke him into a fight. The punctuated syllables catch him off guard and he splutters. "The fuck you mean? You think I can't be gentle?!"

She's giggling again and he's done with her arms and hands, carefully wrapped (poorly, if Recovery Girl had had a chance to give her opinion) in the gauze. He's just come back with an icepack and she's staring at him. She looks a little concussed, but mostly like she's just figured something out. Something amusing. She accepts the icepack and it slips out of her hand, floating. She lets out a 'oopsie' and grabs it, holding it to her head.

Inwardly, Katsuki breathes a sigh of relief; her quirk is unaffected by the burns.

Because of the bump on her head, he has to stay until a teacher or nurse arrives and he sits on the edge of the desk next to her cot. Arms folded, he looks at her again, assessing if there were other injuries that he needed to see to. Well, the blood on her cheek seemed a bit more than necessary. The wet towel in his hands just reminds him of the terrible weather outside, pounding on the windows. He wipes the blood off her face as Uraraka tries to stay very still. He curses under his breath when his damp fingers can't rip the bandaid paper the right way, stretching one side of the adhesive strip.

He's pasting the damn thing on her face, trying to avoid the very obvious eye contact she was attempting when she speaks again, voice tinted with wonder or maybe delirium.

"You're like a cactus."

He stops everything. What.

"A cactus! You're prickly on the outside, but soft and sweet on the inside."

His hands are still hovering near her face, her eyes creasing in happiness, the icebag melting, when the door swings open.

"What's going on in here? What- oh no, you call that a patch job? Shoo shoo, I need to redo all of this..." Recovery Girl sweeps into the room, ushering him out. His hands are still suspended in front of himself and a last look at Uraraka shows her on the infirmary bed, head tilted into the hand holding an ice bag, a crooked and stretched bandaid on her rosy cheeks. She waves with a badly bandaged hand and just before the door closes, he reads her lips.

 _Cactus_.

He crouches outside the room, burning face in his hands.


	8. waiting up

lucyrne requested on tumblr: "you tell me to stop waiting for you to come back from a night out"

I got squishy cute feelings writing this. Very soft and sleepy. :)

* * *

He watches blearily as the clock ticks into the 3 am hour. He's been awake for a while, unable to fall back asleep from his cat nap from 11 to midnight. The room is still and quiet, the only sound the rustling he makes in the sheets of the bed, trying to get comfortable. He won't find a good spot though, because the void on the right side of the bed feels too vast and too cold.

Katsuki Bakugou would never admit that he finds it hard to sleep without her there now.

He's never leaned on anyone before, making his own path and forging ahead with the force of a freight train. That's part of the reason why this seed of worry that has buried itself into the lining of his stomach is so troublesome. His nightly insomnia is awful and he just knows it's her fault, that _bitch_.

The angelic hero Uravity always seems to get the night shift. They used to get duty around the same times and in the same district, the reason why they even got back in touch after high school. His UA days spent crushing on her (apparently mutual pining) came roaring back to life with not subtlety at all. He's never been good at subtlety, but apparently she was worse, blurting out an invitation to coffee after rounding up some villains in a remarkable show of teamwork for two people who hadn't sparred or working together in six years.

A few months into meeting up and working together, spending more and more time together, he asked her to officially get together, though it was more curse words than whispers of adoration. She just laughed him off and said yes. Two weeks later, they were caught by Tsuyu (and by extension, Eijirou) and the secret was out, at least among their friends and peers.

The clock continues ticking as he groans and buries his head into his pillow, rolling onto his stomach. In his head, he hears her speak his name softly and like most times, he flushes from face to chest, the secondhand embarrassment too much. She isn't even _here_ dammit.

He reaches blindly for his phone, hoping to scroll through the internet until the source of his anxiety gets home. The screen is a bit too bright and he squints at the notification he missed. His phone was on silent, so the buzz that normally accompanies texts and snaps from Ochako never happened. He punches in his code and opens the app, waiting for her snap to load. The time stamp scrawled over her visor covered face is at 2:13 am. The text along the bottom is colored blue and bolded.

"You'd better not still be awake."

Katsuki pouts, because if she checks her phone again, she'll see he opened it and he was awake. Any chance he has to feign sleep when he hears her open the front door is gone. He takes a photo and starts typing back, but the bags under his eyes in the light of the phone and ambient city light pollution make him look old. He exits the app and flops over onto his back, the phone bouncing across the mattress.

The ceiling is a mottled and subdued blue. The edges of his vision blur again, the protein buildup in his eyes is itchy, but his arms are too heavy to rub at them. His breathing comes out in sighs and the rhythm is steady and long. Everything molds together, darker and darker, the edge of the blankets and his phone lose their solidity and it seems like only a single deep moment before something soft on his cheek makes his eyelashes flutter.

Painted in cool hues, Ochako backs away from him, a soft smile on her face as she tucks wet hair behind her ear. He must have conked out pretty hard, because she's managed to get home, inside their room, divest herself of her uniform and shower. The soft tee she's in looks too big- one of his. He's still a little fuzzy, but there's warmth from her skin that's under his hands as he pulls her down next to him. She goes willingly, pulling his phone from under herself and reaching over to place it on the bedside table.

The lingering heat from her shower and the smell of her body wash encompass him. He wants to ask about her patrol, if she kicked anyone's ass, if she saw that he was awake to read her snapchat message. But his mouth is glued shut with a tongue thick from sleeping with his mouth open and the heat of her arms around him, the smell of her where his face presses into her neck and shoulder is enough.

She came home.

He thinks he hears her voice murmur right before he falls into the first restful sleep of the night:

"You need to stop waiting for me to get back, Katsuki. You have to get up early this morning…"

He only catches his name in her voice and feels her grip tighten around his back and shoulders. Her lips ghost against his scalp and he is gone to the realm of wakefulness.

"…it is so nice, though… Having someone to come home to."


	9. in the night

The reality of middle of the night sexy cuddling. This is... a little more adult than most of my other stuff, but still not "smut". I just needed to do some fluffy stuff. Random number generator says: "20. your boner or boobies feel very nice, consider sexual time, but decide sleep is better"

* * *

Ochako's vision is blurred by sleep when she wakes. Her human equivalent of a hot water bottle is wrapped around her, Katsuki's chest to her back. His tense muscles are relaxed with sleep, but she can tell he's awake on some level, as his hands are what woke her.

Smooth calluses drag up under her shirt when her murmuring and shifting indicates her wakefulness. He palms a breast and she arches on instinct, pressing her chest into his hand. The arm under her head tenses as he moves to tuck his face between her neck and shoulder, a lazy kiss from his lips dropping onto her skin.

She reaches back to tug at soft blonde hair and he shifts them just enough to reach her mouth. Everything about him and his ministrations feels so good, comfortable and hazy. The kiss is soft and deep, his hand massaging gently and pressing heat into her. She pushes back against him to find Katsuki is hard and erect. The thrill that runs through her is dampened by the yawn she releases around their kiss.

He just chuckles and slips her back onto her side. Ochako goes easily, guided by those warm familiar hands. The arm behind her neck slips around to pull her shoulders back against his chest and the fingers around her nipple slip down her abdomen slowly, pressing her completely against his frame. He nips at her bare shoulder before kissing it. Her hands wrap around his wrists on instinct, her grip failing with each passing moment she loses to the lull of sleep.

He's still hard against her backside when he murmurs to just go to sleep. The rumble of his voice translates directly into her back and his breath is hot against her ear. The hand on her stomach intertwines with hers and travels further down.

Whatever he does next is mostly lost to her in a haze of pleasurable feelings.


End file.
